When Nada Surf took an inordinately long amount of time to make sure everything was perfect before hitting the stage, I took them for a bunch of prima donnas. Well, I figured wrong. Apologizing on behalf of a mixing board that "blew up" during sound check, the New York-based band had to make do with less than ideal conditions. But even when feedback blasted him toward the conclusion of the two-hour set, singer-guitarist Matthew Caws plugged away like a pro, and the fan-friendly band showed a huge amount of determination on the last show of a lengthy tour in support of its most recent album, Lucky.

Much like the Posies, Nada Surf plays pretty pop music with just enough of an edge that hipsters can call themselves fans and not be embarrassed to admit it. That much was apparent early in the set, when the band launched into "Whose Authority" and then, a couple of songs later, "I Like What You Say," two tracks with harmony vocals and catchy pop hooks. During "I Like What You Say," Caws even let a recently married couple on stage to slow dance to the tune, and for "Inside of Love," he encouraged the audience to sway gently back and forth and clap along. Cheesy stuff, but the band somehow pulled it off.

The best songs of the night, however, found the band pairing soft vocals with gritty guitars. During "The Fox," a tune Caws said was written about the news channel and its biased coverage, an undulating guitar riff built in intensity as the song went on. "Do It Again" was played with such fervor, it verged on Foo Fighters territory. The group saved the best for last, however, as "See These Bones" brought the show to a furious end. The encore, which included terrific renditions of "Microspace" and "Always Love" picked up where the main set left off. And for the show closing "Blankest Year," Caws invited the remaining fans on stage to dance in unison to the upbeat number.

The Republic Tigers opened with a 45-minute set that was more about sound textures and atmosphere than actual songs, and as a result, the ragtag group came off as a second-rate Arcade Fire.

Iron Maiden
Blossom, Thursday, June 12

Iron Maiden was never a band that I felt I would ever see live. Well, scratch this one off my bucket list; Blossom's Iron Maiden show last Thursday was off the hook. The hot sun snuggled into the woody hills as Eddie and his creators shredded harder than most 50-year-olds. Our first 10 minutes into the night, we saw a sweaty, gray-ponytailed dude shooting out yellow barf. The night was going to be good. The audience was hard worn and ready to party, and this time around brought the 12-year-old kids. From the first few rolling beats of "Aces High," the show's opener, we were all 12 years old again. After a few chants of "Scream for me, Ohio!" we were headlong into one of the most fantastic shows that I've ever seen. With every rolling, epic song, Bruce Dickinson's voice was full and lustrous. "The Trooper" brought our first background change, which had various expertly painted portraits of the band's mascot, Eddie: Eddie in Egypt, Eddie in space, Eddie conjuring the devil himself.

Dickinson's voice sounded like he was casting a spell, every arm movement summoning evil dead. He was intoxicating, proving that though he was almost 50 he had not resigned to doing "dad rock." Bassist Steve Harris regularly made a rifle out of his guitar while dripping sweat and baring teeth. Dave Murray, who seemed like he was just super stoked to even hold a guitar, was on fire, graciously delivering to us those Maiden masterpieces. The Lurch-like Adrian Smith and Janick Gers joined Murray as they ran around the stage, engaging the crowd, singing with unbridled horny teenage abandon. It was inspiring. Maybe because of the constant fireballs shooting from the stage and the firecracker finale, "Can I Play With Madness?" was the best song all night. "Heaven Can Wait" brought about a costume change for Dickinson, who went from a black skullie to a feather and fur mask that was more unnerving than metal. The breakdown of "Run to the Hills" brought back memories of me running around my parent's basement, raging like a rabid animal. A three-song encore brought down the house. The guys ended with "Hallowed Be Thy Name," a deliciously evil song. Overwhelmed by the awesomeness, I floated to the car on a cloud of post-show afterglow. Goddamn, can they still shred. — Jara Anton

Death Cab for Cutie
Plain Dealer Pavilion, Friday, June 13

Over-thinking is a typical thing for a music critic to do, particularly when the band in question — for the purposes of this discussion, Death Cab for Cutie — has made the jump from indie darlings to the top of the Billboard album charts. The "over-thinking" in this case has to do with the fact that as Death Cab for Cutie has ascended the Billboard charts, it's lost a good portion of the fan base that helped propel it to those heights. Fans of its first four albums, which were released on the indie Barsuk label, seem to have been replaced by fans who only seem to have heard the band's two releases on major-label Atlantic. Or maybe those old fans just stopped coming to the band's live gigs, which is a shame, because Death Cab for Cutie's hour-and-a-half show would certainly have pleased them. It was pretty much impeccable for this era of the 11-year-old band.

Solid new tunes from Narrow Stairs like the show-opening "Bixby Canyon Bridge" and "I Will Possess Your Heart," mixed really well with fare from The Photo Album, like "Why You'd Want to Live Here" and "A Movie Script Ending." It's great to see the band is still willing to dip into its back catalogue for gems like "Photobooth," from the Forbidden Love EP. Few in attendance went bonkers over back-to-back renditions of seminal We Have the Facts and We're Voting Yes tracks "Company Calls" and "Company Calls Epilogue," though, or even "Pictures in an Exhibition" from its debut, Something About Airplanes. The raucous cheering was mostly reserved for Ben Gibbard's acoustic sing-along version of "I Will Follow You into the Dark," and other newer tunes like "Crooked Teeth" and "Soul Meets Body." It was certainly weird that an audience as sizeable as the one that turned out to see the band wasn't well-versed in the band's discography, but it's not like they weren't happy to hear the older material. They just weren't as happy to hear those songs as they were new material like "Grapevine Fires" and "Cath..." or the show-closing "Title and Registration" and "No Sunlight." — Jeremy Willets

Fink
B-Side Liquor Lounge, Friday, June 13

It was pouring rain, complete with thrashing thunder and lightning. However, singer-songwriter Fink didn't notice the weather. Nor did he notice the loud people at the bar or the girls in the front who kept running to the bathroom. In fact, he didn't seem to notice anything as he played his set, eyes closed, head nodding and feet tapping. "I know I look all moody with my eyes closed but I'm really enjoying it," the British singer-songwriter told a group of about 30 people after his first few songs. Although the crowd and the setting - only a chair, a microphone and a guitar - were sparse, Fink's talented guitar playing and deep voice soon drowned out the weather and caught the audience's attention.

Although his set wasn't even an hour long and was made up of less than 10 songs, Fink managed to fit in songs from both his albums, his latest Distance and Time and 2006's Biscuits for Breakfast, and took a request from a fan. While all the songs were acoustic, confessional, sometimes self-deprecating numbers about broken relationships and lessons learned, no two sounded the same. With just an acoustic guitar, Fink filled the small area with sound as he started his set with "This Is the Thing" from Distance and Time. Even though he stayed seated for his whole set, he couldn't sit still. His whole body moved with each song, whether he was tapping the beat on the side of his guitar or shaking his head as he sang the line "I've nothing left to offer you" from "All Cried Out." He took on a bluesy tone as he sang about the monotony of the 9-5 job in "Biscuits." With each song, he seemed to stay in his own world, and the audience was merely listening to him tell his stories.

With only two songs left, Fink quickly decided on a "ballad, then drug song." While all of Fink's songs opened him up, "Sorry I'm Late" was the one that left him the most exposed as he put his struggle with drugs to music. He ended with "If Only," a sweet love song that is one of Fink's simpler songs, but also one of the most memorable. Although he joked about his ex-girlfriends, former jobs and past drug problems, it was obvious Fink takes everything about his music seriously, making him one of those musicians that it is a privilege to watch. The audience seemed to think so too, and was urging him to stay longer. He declined, but didn't forget his manners. "You've been absolutely lovely." So had he. — Brittany Moseley